Our Strolls Together

August 30, 2010

A Love Story of Seasons

I could sense it on the morning air. In the gentle gray before sun's first light, with my favorite blanket draped across my shoulders, I felt the change of season approach. The air has grown cooler. The blossoms have faded away. The perfume of my ruby roses is but a sweet memory. The butterflies which danced so gracefully have gone. One solitary dancer flits restlessly about, having sailed far from the petals of yesterday. The summer song drifts through its final strains alone... until there is quiet... stillness.

Summer is about intensity, adventure, vibrancy. Life seemed to burst so fully. Now comes a new pace. As vivid summer green blends into warm fall bronze, there comes a peaceful, gentle hush. Bright piano ballads succumb to rich, strings drawn with the slow caress of the bow. The heavy warmth of humid air lightens to a whispered breeze. Where there was intensity and excitement... now there is a settledness.

Fall is about comfort, family, ease. Like the glistening water of the creek, life seems to move a bit more slowly... gently.... with thoughtful, deliberate consideration. Dappled rays of diffused sunlight will play along the walkway as strolls grow easy... and for some... fingers will intertwine, knowingly, as their gates fall in synchronized rhythm. The porch swing will become a favored conversation place at the close of the day... as dreams are created, shared, renewed, nurtured. Evenings will settle on the dancing glow of firelight. Deep feather beds and layered cotton quilts will cover longer nights of rest... renewal. Breath comes, slow... deep. There comes a nurturing... a fulfillment... a belonging.

Every season offers its own unique beauty... gifts to the soul. We need them all... from exuberance to rest.

And the roses of summer? Their seed is planted... ready to bloom again. It's a love story of seasons... when it is true, one leads to the next in a never-ending circle of beauty.

Comments

A Love Story of Seasons

I could sense it on the morning air. In the gentle gray before sun's first light, with my favorite blanket draped across my shoulders, I felt the change of season approach. The air has grown cooler. The blossoms have faded away. The perfume of my ruby roses is but a sweet memory. The butterflies which danced so gracefully have gone. One solitary dancer flits restlessly about, having sailed far from the petals of yesterday. The summer song drifts through its final strains alone... until there is quiet... stillness.